Heroes Rise, Men Fall
by Fortiscule
Summary: Follow up to "Sins of the Father". Prologue meant to give insight to the "colonist" background. M for graphic violence in future chapters.
1. The Old Country

"Jonathan!" Johnny's father yelled, "You had better be ready to walk out the door in five, young man! No exceptions!"

"There's my old man for you," John "Johnny" Shepard thought as he heaved himself out of his bed, "I don't have to leave for school for another hour, and he wants me ready in five minutes." Johnny groggily went through his pile of clothes laying adjacent to his bed, carefully sniffing each one to find a pair of jeans and shirt that had the least hint of an odor on it. Johnny's room was in shambles. His walls were covered in posters advertising and promoting everything from bands to off world cities like the Citadel and Omega.

"Omega's nothing but a hive of crime and the Citadel is buried so far down in red tape toting lobbyists that you'd turn into a lawyer trying to figure out where the nearest toilet is," Johnny's father, Douglas Shepard, would say. He had become increasingly embittered as his years of life wore on. John justified it by taking into account his father's previous record as being a highly decorated Alliance marine. He pulled on a black shirt and jeans and finished off the outfit with his prized pair of Earth made cowboy boots and matching studded leather jacket. It had taken him a year to save up enough money from his job as a farmhand to buy both of them, but it was all worth it.

The Mindoir sun hurt his eyes as the rays poured through his window. He put on his pair of sunglasses after he had done all of his bathroom needs and gathered up all of his school books. He stomped down the stairs of his house and made a quick turn to head out of his front door.

"Don't you think you had better eat something before you leave?" said Douglas from the kitchen. Johnny sighed and closed his eyes, wishing his father was a little less inquisitive this morning.

"I'll just get something at school, no big deal," called out Johnny from the foyer.

"Nonsense," replied Douglas, "I don't want you eating that produced by the hundred slop they serve at that school."

"Oh God, here we go," Johnny muttered. He walked into the dining room and took a seat at the dinner table. From his seat he could see his father toiling over a sizzling skillet of eggs.

"There were so many times I wished I could have had a proper home cooked meal in the Alliance that it almost made me want to cry," Douglas said as he sat a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast down in front of Johnny. "Any person that refuses a home cooked meal is just a damned fool." He only nodded, hoping that his father's thoughts would end up on something remotely suitable for dinner conversation.

They sat in silence as they each dug into their breakfast. Johnny looked up to see his dad looking at his breakfast over his glasses. His buttoned shirt was slightly stained with bacon grease.

"Want seconds?" asked Johnny through a mouthful of toast.

"No, I was just thinking about how the way the oil is pooling on your plate looks like the spatter off this turian I popped one time," Douglas said in a flat monotone. Johnny choked on his food.

"Dad, really?" he shouted. Douglas laughed.

"No, son, I was thinking about how you remind me so much of your mother. God rest her soul." Johnny looked up. His bright blue eyes gleamed like diamonds behind his blond hair that was pushed down over his face from the black beanie he was wearing. He was confused. He did not know how to respond to this sudden change in tone. He cleared his throat and hastily rose from his seat and pushed his breakfast away.

"I guess I should get going ," was all that he could think to say.

"I'll see you when you get home," said Douglas. Johnny looked over his shoulder to see his father sitting in his seat still. He gave an awkward smile as he finally walked out of the door.


	2. Youth

Johnny gave a small shudder as the cold of the Mindoir winter period hit him in his face with a gust of wind as he made his way down the dirt road. His feet made a crunch in the snow each time he took a step. As bitterly cold as it was, Mindoir still managed to contain some manner of beauty to it with the snow forming shiny crystals on the branches and bushes lining the road. Mindoir had the benefit of having a solar year that was very close to Earth's, so the seasons were nearly identical to those on Earth. It was near Christmas and he could see various festive decorations on the the side of the road as the road wound its way gradually into a more civilized condition.

He saw his friends waiting for him at the bus stop. They were silhouetted against the snowy tapestry behind them.

"There's the dumbass of the hour, what took you so long?" shouted Travis Hezner, also known as "Trashy" Travis amongst his friends. Travis gained his loving nickname through his amazing fluidity in every form of vulgarity and profanity known to man. He was a short kid of about fifteen years of age. He had a black buzz cut that was dotted with small wisps of snow.

"Yeah, bro, you took a while to get here. Longer than normal even," said Larry Desmue, the resident stoner. His presence on Mindoir was proof that, millions of light years away from its home world, the effects of pot were still going strong. He was by far the tallest of the group, standing in at around six feet and two inches. He had long brown hair that formed a curly curtain around his happily passive face.

"Sorry guys, Dad had me stay for a while to eat breakfast with him," Johnny said with a sigh.

"Really, Johnny, you expect us to believe that?" said Angela Love, the biggest tom boy on the planet. She always wore jeans and t-shirts and had claimed many times before that the day she was caught wearing a skirt or dress would be her wake. She had rough yet delicate features that complemented her gung-ho attitude. Her only cosmetic tweak was her bob-cut that was dyed neon blue.

"Yeah, I do expect you to believe that, Angie," said Shepard mockingly. Travis and Larry snickered. Angela, blushing, pushed Shepard in the chest which sent him back a foot or two.

"Bus is coming, guys," Larry said in his slow, mellow tone. Indeed, the yellow, black and white bus was rounding the corner. Mindoir had the backing of the Alliance Federation for farming and such, but other commodities, such as more advanced forms of travel, were dialed back to near twenty first century standards. The bus had the sleek, modern look to it, but was still a diesel hauling monster in the end.

One by one, they piled in the bus and were whisked off to the compound they called high school.

Angela, Larry, Travis, and Johnny rounded the corner into the gymnasium of their school. The group of the school were already collecting in their given sections. The nerds occupied their corner near the top of the bleachers, the jocks were all busy being arm candy for all the attractive girls of the school. Goths and emos mingled near the exit. For a human occupied alien world, it was truly remarkable at how unremarkable it was in terms of the base social innerworkings.

Johnny and his group of friends were nomads in the wasteland of culture, traveling from area to area.

"So man, where's your guitar?" asked Larry. Johnny felt blood rush through his veins at the realization he had just come to.

"Damn, it's still at home," came Johnny's reply. All three of them sighed in disappointed response.

"Shit man, how many fuckin' times did I tell you to bring that stupid thing?" said Travis with a high pitch to his voice that he did whenever he was frustrated. "I said, 'Johnny, remember to bring your guitar. We've got a gig at five Friday night,' and you would say, 'okay Travis, I'll bring it'. Yet here we stand, four musicians with three instruments."

"Wait, where are your and Larry's bass and guitar anyway?" pointed out Shepard.

"They're at Angela's next to her drum kit," came Larry's response, "we tried to get you to leave your guitar there, but you wouldn't have it."

"Yeah, and I still won't," Johnny scoffed, "Like I would leave it in there with her duster brother to steal." Had Angela been standing there and not in the restroom, Johnny would have held his tongue. However it was a well known fact that Angela's older brother was an abuser of red sand. Travis and Larry didn't respond to this statement.

"Look, just remember to get it after school and meet us at Starlight like we planned," said Travis. Larry, Angela, Travis, and Johnny were a band that had just gotten their third gig booked at a local club in the downtown area of Mindoir City. Angela played drums, Larry played lead guitar, Travis played bass, and Johnny played rhythm guitar and sang.

"I'll pick you up," said Larry, the only one of them to have a driver's license.

"Listen we don't have to jump through so many hoops to do this. What if we just play single guitar songs and I could just sing?" offered Johnny. Travis rolled his eyes.

"Come on man, you know it's not Through the Relay if we don't have Larry laying down shredding licks, me and Angela making some sweet-ass beats and grooves, and you doing your whole tortured teenage douche thing," cackled Travis. Johnny gave Travis a playful punch. Right on cue, the bell for the first class of the day rang out and reverberated in the gym. They all disbanded and started on their way to each of their assigned classes.

Johnny made his way through the crowded halls until he finally found his locker. He collected his books from his locker and shut it again while trying to block out all of the talk around him that was polluting his mind with so much information that he really did not care in the slightest of. Talk of who was the most attractive person in the school, what chance their school had of winning in the next game against another school, and who was the most endowed members of the sports team whispered under the breath of curious freshmen girls made Johnny's stomach churn.

Johnny took his seat in the first class of the day which, to his misfortune, was Interplanetary History. As much as Johnny was fascinated about aliens, he did not see how knowing the way turians and quarians broke down amino acids or how the redundant nervous system of a krogan functioned would ever help him in his life. He was the son of an aging war hero and he could not see how he could do any major accomplishments in his life. John Shepard: Hero. What a laugh that was.

The teacher, Mr. Giuseppe was a classic example of the tough guy in a delicate office. He wore short sleeved shirts that let his muscles be exposed to the class. He had short black hair that was slicked back over dark skin that showed off his Italian heritage. He slid the pictures on the holographic screen at the front of the room until he came to the day's set of notes. The picture on the screen suddenly showed an enlarged image of a hanar. The whole class groaned in frustration.

"Really, Mr. Giuseppe?" called out one student, "a paper on the volus, a project on the elcor, and now the hanar?"

"I told all of you that we were going to cross out the boring ones and get into the interesting ones next semester," replied Mr. Giuseppe. His voice was calm and stable in a juxtaposition with his profoundly masculine form.

"Like what?" asked the same student.

"How about the war rituals of the turians," asked Mr. Giuseppe, raising his eyebrows and adjusting his posture into that of a well trained lawyer debating a case. "Or the rites of passage for the krogan, or the geth uprising in 1895?" The class fell silent. "Right. Now, I want all of you to turn to Page 459 in your text books and pay attention. The hanar are located on the tropical world Kahje and were known for assisting the drell in..."

Johnny lost interest in the lesson. The words in his book turned into a puzzle that he never intended on trying to solve. It was all bull shit and Johnny knew it. What was the point in this? What was the point in any of this? It was only going to be one day that lead to another day that lead to another. If he was lucky, maybe he could make it to the Citadel and play music in clubs for the rest of his life or draw pictures for a holo-comic he would publish one day. Nothing extravagant, just something to pay the bills.

"And what did they call them, Mr. Shepard?" said Mr. Giuseppe's voice, breaking into Johnny's mind like a sledge hammer hitting a pane of glass.

"What was the question sir?" stuttered Johnny. The class chuckled at his state of confusion. Mr. Giuseppe crossed his arms and let a condescending grin cross his face.

"The protheans. What did the hanar call the protheans?" repeated Mr. Giuseppe. Johnny felt his face turning red in embarrassment as he struggled to think of an answer. "Can anyone help out Mr. Shepard?"

"The Enkindlers!" shouted out all of the girls of the class, eager to get Mr. Giuseppe's attention.

"Correct, ladies," said . He wrote the words on the board with an electric tracing tool. The words stood out in bright green. The girls giggled. Mr. Giuseppe was the teacher that almost every girl in the school had a crush on. "Can anyone tell me why the protheans vanished off the galactic grid thousands of years ago?" Once again, the class fell silent.

"Correct!" Mr. Giuseppe yelled out, making all of the students jump. "Nobody knows what happened to them. But the one difference between something that just disappears and something that lives on forever is what it leaves behind after it's gone. Now, since it's Friday, I want all of you to watch the video on the migration of the drell onto the hanar home world."

Mr. Giuseppe tapped the board and the video started playing and the lights automatically dimmed. As he was walking to his desk, Mr. Giuseppe waved Johnny to come to his desk. Johnny followed him to his desk at the back of the room while ignoring the antagonizing "oohs" that came from the students. Johnny sat down and braced for the scolding soon to come.

"Your last test grade just came in," said Giuseppe. Johnny waited to here the damage. "Mr. Shepard, it was one hundred percent correct." Johnny let a small smile grace his mouth. Giuseppe began to pull out files and flip through them a hurried pace. "That lead me to look at your report cards for this semester and last year and so on. You've never made below a "B" in any subject."

"If I may ask, sir, what's the problem?" Johnny asked.

"The problem is that you have all this talent yet you don't seem interested in school, colleges, or careers at all. John, with these kinds of grades, you could get into almost any university you wanted."

"Please, sir," Johnny laughed, "Why would any kind of place like that want to take some farm raised kid like me? What could I ever do?"

"John, I know stupid," said Giuseppe leaning over his desk, "I've been in the education business for ten years. You, young man, are not stupid."

"Maybe I just don't want to be like that then!" snapped Johnny. Giuseppe leaned back in shock. Johnny blushed and lowered his head at his outburst. He did not even really know what he meant by the remark anyway, but it came so suddenly that he could not leave it alone.

"Well, I hope that one day you can look at yourself the way that I and every teacher in this school does," sighed Giuseppe. "You may take your seat."

Johnny rose and walked to his seat and buried his hands in his arms, ashamed. He just let the sounds of the video and the class ease his nerves until the class ended and the next one began. The day became a confusing blur; a continuous cycle of class, kids, assignment, locker, repeat. He could not wait to go under the neon lights again at Starlight. He could not wait until he could spout his teen-angst laden rhymes into the ears of hundreds of people, and only have them revel in his glory along with him.

He was tired of this world . He was tired of the people on it, the buildings, the smells, the taste of the food, the hot sun and cold winds, he was tired of it all. But his fear of himself kept his personal ambition down i a figurative hole. He felt undoubtedly and inexcusably stuck.


	3. Styx

It was almost night when Johnny opened his front door and tip toed through his dimly lit house to retrieve his guitar. Picking his guitar up beside its amplifier in his room, he proceeded downstairs and was heading out of the front door when he heard the sound of his father walking up the main hall.

"Heading out again, are we?" Douglas asked. Johnny closed his eyes and let the sudden burst of surprised adrenaline wear off.

"I thought you had a town meeting to attend," asked Johnny. Douglas made himself comfortable in one of the chairs lining the hall.

"I canceled it as soon as I knew you were going out," he said as he lit a cigar. " How did I know? You never wear those boots or jacket on a normal school day." Johnny sighed, he had been caught, caught by a soldier's wisdom.

"Look, it's just a thing on the side I do with some friends," he said calmly, "it's just to make a few extra bucks."

"You get paid plenty working the fields," Douglas replied while blowing a small puff of gray smoke.

"But I can't work them in the summer, and the pay is horrible even in season. Dad, I just want to play music. That's all I have ever wanted to do," he concluded.

"If that's the case then take up with the church's band," he offered while gesturing with his hands, "I'm sure they would love to have you come play." Johnny turned and looked at his dad, still sitting so benignly yet rebelliously in the chair.

"But I want to make money," he whined.

"Which is it then, money or music?" Douglas asked. Johnny drooped his head. Once again, he was worked into a corner. Douglas only looked at Johnny with his head tilted to the side, awaiting his response. They both stood in silence until Douglas finally broke the silence. "Jonathan, you're not a child anymore. So I'm not going to treat you like one. If you want to go play with your band, then go. Just know that I'll lose respect for you, and you're never going to get that back." Johnny glanced around the room. He had concrete around his feet. He felt as if he could not go anywhere. His mind finally started up with a burst of flames.

"you're right Dad. I'm not a child anymore. Therefore, I wish that you would respect my decisions," Johnny spoke in vain to the statue before him. Douglas put his arms behind his back and turned his back towards Johnny as he began walking down the dark corridor. Tears welled up in johnny's eyes. "Please, just say something dad," he pleaded. Douglas stopped in motion. He turned his head to the side and spoke.

"The key will be under the mat when you get home," he took a couple of steps before turning to add, "if you come home." His silhouette disappeared into the darkness.

"Dad! Dad!" he yelled. His pleas were absorbed into the dark recesses of the house before him. Douglas had synchronized his body with the darkness. To Johnny, he was gone. Johnny walked out of the door in choked sadness. He began walking the lonely road towards his destination where he would hope to find meaningless fame. Each step was a song that echoed his continuing exile. He had no one now. Nothing would ever change. Nothing would ever be the same.


	4. The Gig

The Gig

The neon lights morphed into different shapes on the paint of the car through the window. Johnny propped his chin against his hand as he stared out at the nucleus of Mindoir. The main city of Demeter was bustling on the Friday night that "Through the Relay" had been selected to play. People moved up and down the sidewalk in hurried paces. The flashing signs advertised beverages, restaurants, and other items from their perches that overlooked the concrete jungle below.

Demeter, named after the goddess of the harvest, was the largest metropolitan area on Mindoir. People all over the world flocked to it on vacation from their farming jobs. The whole city was based on larger cities on Earth. The sudden tribal whoop that erupted from Travis. He was decked out in his rockstar garb. He wore tight fitting jeans, a fedora, and a band shirt advertising a group back on Earth.

"Here we are guys! Mother-fucking Demeter!" Travis yelled from the back of the van. He came up to the front of the band and grasped the shoulders of Johnny and Larry. Larry was driving and Johnny was in the passenger seat."

"Damn it Trav, you almost made me run off the road!" exclaimed Larry. "You know how I get when I drive. It's a zen thing, man. Just chill."

"Sorry bro. What's your deal though?" asked Travis as his grip on Johnny tightened. "We finally get a gig. Not a party or a festival, but a full on, fucking _gig_. And now your acting like someone just ran over your dog."

"I'm just," Johnny stammered, "not feeling too well." Johnny still had a somewhat sour feeling in his stomach from his transgression with his father an hour earlier. He turned to see Travis looking at him wide eyed.

"Johnny, you know I'm here for your anytime. But if you fuck this up-"

"I'm not going to fuck it up, guys. Come on, I love you guys too much to let you down," He concluded.

"As much as we appreciate the sentiment, Mary," chimed in Angela who was sitting in the back practicing rhythm beats, "what we need is a singer and guitarist, not a soap opera star."

"Understood, sarge," laughed Johnny.

"What was that? Was that a smile and a laugh from I-Hate-Myself-Johnny?" Travis was in Johnny's face, looking intently in it as if he was searching for the slightest hint of life upon his features.

"Come on man, quit playing," chuckled Johnny.

"I need to do some investigating," said Travis as he stuck his fingers in Johnny's mouth and pulled his cheeks apart. They play-fought each other for a minute before Larry called out to the.

"Guys, we're here!" They all looked out the window to the venue, Starlight. The entrance fit its name. A giant neon and holographic display of shooting stars was situated above the front doors. A large line of people stood at the door that was guarded by a burly bouncer. The crowd was a mixture of black clad teenagers, blazer wearing studs out looking for a cheap thrill with the opposite sex, and just every day people looking for something to do on the dull farming world.

They all stood at the door and gazed up at the flashing hologram that read in bold multi-colored words, "Through The Relay Playing tonight at 7:00 P.M.!" The group of friends walked through the entrance to the club. A wave of alcohol, sex, and sweat flooded their noses. The multi-leveled club was filled with fog and smoke. The gyrating silhouettes of dancing people could be seen on all of the surfaces. Their outlines were pronounced through the various strobe effects and bursts of light from the videos playing on massive screens that covered the walls. The ceiling was a giant hologram of the milkyway galaxy with animated star systems that revolved over time. The loud rhythmic thumps from the beats of the sound system shook the walls.

"There's my little group of rockers!" came the familiar voice of Antoine, the club's owner. His bulky form was covered with a white suit. He came from within the crowd and shook each of their hands with a curt nod. "You've got fifteen minutes to set up and an hour on stage," he said briefly, "get to it."

"We'll need a little more time to get all of the proper tech hooked up," johnny stated.

"Listen kid, technically you all shouldn't even be hear. But I like you, and your little friend over here was quite convincing in his messages." Travis smiled in acknowledgement. Antoine's arm suddenly glowed with the orange hue of an omni-tool. He took a quick look down and looked back at them in frustration. "Shit, I've got to take this. As I said, fifteen minutes." He stormed off into the crowd and melded with them until he was nowhere to be seen.

15 minutes later

The dj stood at the edge of the stage and tapped the microphone in his hand, letting the reverberation echo throughout the club.

"Alright, we've got a very special group of guests for all of you here tonight!" he shouted. His glittering gold and platinum chains caught the eyes of anyone else in Starlight who hadn't already noticed him. The crowd whooped in anticipation. "Please give a hot Mindoir welcome to 'Through the Relay'!"

The stage curtain pulled away and there stood johnny, Angela, Travis, and Larry in all of their glory. Johnny mustered up his inner beast and walked toward the mic stand. Without a moment's hesitation he let his lyrics rise up from his lungs and leave his mouth. He slammed the first chord of the song down and Larry and Travis followed while Angela kept the beat alive on her kit. The crowd could not have been better. They jumped, sang, and screamed in joy through every song.

Fourty minutes had gone by in what seemed like two. After playing all of the originals they had written they were running out of ideas for songs. He looked over at Travis and Larry who were ecstatic, but unmistakably exhausted. Sweat dripped from their hair and their self-applied stage mascara was running. Johnny's eyes were beginning to sting as well. Angela was leaning over her kit, panting and gasping for air.

Johnny knew this was going to be a short night, but he had to at least give them a show-stopper. He motioned them off the stage. They looked cautious, but Johnny assured them it was safe to go. Soon, it was only Johnny standing on stage with his guitar around his shoulder and a pack of confused clubbers before him. He took one last breath before starting the next and final song. It was a cover from one of his favorite twenty-first century songs. He struggled for a second to remember how it went, and it suddenly came rushing back to him. His fingers played the melody of it while his voice sang the lyrics at a slow, even speed.

It was beautiful. The crowd at first was shocked at the sudden change of pace in the club scene, but they gradually grew to like it. They clapped their hands together, sang, and swayed to the beat. Suddenly, his microphone was cut off. An automated voice rang out over the club's PA system.

"Please, remain calm," the voice cracked. It was the VI for the city. "Please head for the nearest exit immediately. Please remain calm," the message repeated. Johnny was confused as well as everyone else. He stood on the stage, dumbfounded as to what to do. Travis and Angela, ran on stage. They both were pale and had fear in their eyes.

"What's going on?" Johnny asked, "Where's Larry?"

"I swear I didn't do it. I didn't do it. What happened? Where is he? I didn't do it," Travis blabbered. It was upon close inspection that Johnny noticed Travis was covered in blood.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Shepard, becoming distraught. Angela seemed shaken, but not out of it like Travis.

"Larry's dead, Johnny," she choked out. Travis rose from Angela's supporting arm and looked at Johnny.

"Dude went into the alley to take a piss. Stupid fucker, always having to do weird stupid shit. Came out after a while and found him. Deader than grunge," he laughed which turned into a wail of tears.

"What?" johnny asked, shocked. He was becoming scared now. He did not know what to think.

"Shot, Johnny!" Angela screamed, "Larry's been sho-"

The building rattled with the force of an explosion. What ensued thereafter was indeed hell to bear.


	5. Taken

Get out. The only thought running through Johnny's head propelled his feet forward. He dropped his guitar and grabbed Angela by the sleeve. He lept off of the stage and into the crowd of swarming club attendees. They had begun to panic as the explosions became louder. He dragged what he hoped was Angela and Travis towards the main entrance. People slammed into him every second. He felt his nose starting to bleed from a hit that he did not even know he had experienced. As the exit got closer, it became clearer that the small exit was at capacity from funneling out all of the individuals in the club. It was a panicked pack of madness that he was in.

He looked back to see that Angela and Travis had left his grasp in the chaos. His eyes bolted from one crowded corner to another as he tried to spot them. Calling their name was useless in the shrill screeches and shouts in the building. His mind told him to move forward, he would find them later. He had no choice, so he kept pressing forward. The light from the outside was growing brighter. He finally pushed his way out and beheld the horror before him.

He got out just in time to see the burning wreckage of a car hurtling over his head. The ball of metal and fire landed on top of an unsuspecting man. He saw his legs fly off of his body heard his screams as he was slowly burned alive. Unable to process all of the events around him, Johnny walked off of the steps to the club in a shocked stupor. He turned to look at the source of the car. Down the street was what looked like an alien gunship. Its engines held it in the air over the street. the heat from its thrusters melted news stands and set papers ablaze. The large wave of people running from it never stood a chance.

All the people were running down the street as hurriedly as they could, and then he heard its gun spin up. Suddenly, a torrent of bullets rained from its guns. Dozens of people were instantly cut down. The organs, limbs, and blood of men and women were scattered haphazardly around the street-bound kill box. Johnny watched it gain altitude and saw its missile bay fold out from under each wing. It let loose a flurry of missiles. Johnny watched them trace a fiery path through the air until they finally made contact with the side of a building. The concrete of the building cracked and finally gave way. Its large, rocky mass fell slowly down and hit the street with a gigantic report. Bodies flew up as well as other organic parts.

The purpose was then evident, it had set up a dam, a trap for all of the surviving civilians. About a hundred or so remained. The gunship's lights clicked on and cast a blinding glow on the crowd below. People cried and grabbed each other in fear. Some pathetically tried to climb over the dam, but none made it. Many were trampled into bloody pulps in the effort to escape.

A larger ship flew silently down. The hulking frame of it hovered next to the gunship, which flew away over the rooftops in pursuit of more victims. Cables dropped from the ship, and a platoon of armored, humanoid beings slithered down them, Once they made landfall, they croaked out some language that Johnny could not understand. Johnny felt a three-fingered hand grab his shoulder and drag him into a nearby alley. Right as he was about to yell out for help, a gloved hand covered his mouth and all he uttered was a muffled yelp.

"Quiet kid, you want to get us killed too?" asked the voice. It was a strangely distorted male voice. "They're taking them, son. There's nothing we can do." Johnny watched from within the alley as the one of the humanoids set a large cube of metal down. The alien released him from his grasp once he was sure Johnny was not going to give away their position. He kept a securing hand on Johnny's shoulder as they moved quietly closer to see the events unfold. A humanoid in armor came walking towards the crowded mass. He had in his hand what appeared to be a large cube of shiny metal. It set the cube down and it began writhing and moving like a metallic mass of jell-o. Soon, the cube had broken down into an army of robotic roaches that moved toward the people in a wave that appeared to be one moving mass.

The metal exoskeletons of the roaches were seen when the light from the fires around them refracted off of them. There were thousands that swarmed over the squirming bodies of the trapped people. Little lights were seen dotting the bodies that looked like small shocks given by the roaches. One by one, the people fell unconscious. The roaches returned to where the cube had been set down and all of them returned to their original position. Soon, the cube had been reconstructed and the humanoid retrieved it.

"What's happening?" Johnny heard himself say.

"Quiet, kid, quiet!" the voice said again, this time more forcefully. "They're harvesting them." The alien said. He pulled johnny's arm and made him follow him deeper into the alley. Light became less prominent and the smell of garbage became stronger. His form was humongous compared to Johnny. His outline made johnny estimate around seven feet tall "They're batarians, a slaving race concentrated in the Terminus systems. They use nanobots because it's quicker than sedating them individually and less harmful than nerve gas."

"Why are they on Mindoir? We need to go help them!" so many questions ran through Johnny's head.

"They've been knocking over various human colonies recently. Reasons are still unclear. Secondly, we can't help them, kid. There's too many of them," the alien concluded. Johnny was still trying to process the information before him that his mind was swimming.

"Where are we going?" asked Johnny.

"We're going to get a vehicle. My ship was compromised when I touched down," the alien said. "Wait!" They had come to the end of the alley. There was a single street light that illuminated the exit. Johnny stopped and watched as the alien, which Johnny could now distinguish as a turian, retrieve a shotgun attached to his lower back. He began slowly creeping up to the exit, evidently checking for hostiles. He moved out of the alley and looked to his right. Just as he was turning around, a batarian tackled him. Johnny ran out of the alley and watched the brawl.

The batarian had made the turian stumble, but his superior size made him stay on his feet. The turian grabbed the batarian under his knees while its arms were still around his head in a piggy-back fashion. He jumped backwards and brought all of his weight into his back where the back of the batarian was located. They hit the concrete street with a loud slam. The batarian was dazed, but not out.

The turian turned over and was delivering a punch to its face when the batarian grabbed his fist. His other hand curled into a ball and punched the turian on the left cheek. The force of the blow made the turian roll over on his back. The batarian, now straddling the turian, retrieved a combat knife from the sheath attached to its chest plate. Grasping it with the blade pointed downwards, the batarian put both hands on its handle and plunged it downwards. The turian clutched its wrists with both of his hands. Both of the aliens grunted and strained as each tried to kill the other.

Finally, the flexible turian wrapped his legs around the abdomen of the batarian. He rolled to the left and shifted their position to where he was straddling the batarian. With the support of the newly gained gravitational leverage, he released his left hand from the batarian's wrist and punched it in the throat. The batarian gagged and choked. Seizing the opportunity, the turian grabbed the weakened yet armed hand and slammed it into the street several times until the batarian had dropped the knife. He grabbed the knife and with the speed of the bullet, stabbed it through the batarian's spurted from the metal hole.

The turian stood up and began walking down the street. It disturbed Johnny how mechanical the alien seemed to behave. It was then that johnny noticed that the city was deserted. Nothing inhabited the street they were on. The only evidence of life was the distant screams from other people being harvested. Just then, the turian ran to Johnny and knocked him down. He was on top of Johnny, holding him down. He laid down as well.

"Don't move a muscle," he whispered. Johnny moved his eyes and saw a squadron of three gunships approaching overhead. They had searchlights on. The lights combed over the streets, looking for signs of life. Johnny shut his eye tightly when he saw the light approaching their position. Through his eyelids, he saw the light pass over them. He heard the roar of the engines fade in the distance. The turian patted him on the shoulder and rose up.

"Let's go," he stated. He helped Johnny up. The turian's face was covered with a helmet. He began to walk away again.

"Wait!" Johnny stated flatly. "Who are you and where are we going?" The turian carried on with his buisness until he came to car that appeared to be able to support his body parallel parked on the street. He bashed the window out and stuffed his large frame in.

"Get in and I'll tell you," he commanded. Johnny, left with no other option, climbed into the car. The hot wired car pulled out of the space and zoomed down the street at a blinding spee


	6. Betrayed

"Okay, who the fuck are you you fucking alien?" Johnny spat. He himself was taken aback at the ferocity of his language. The turian, who was deep in concentration navigating the vehicle, didn't even flinch. Nothing could be seen through his black visor. He then reached up with one hand and popped a seal on his helmet letting gas whoosh out of it. He slid the helmet off of his face to reveal the alien underneath. His eagle like head was outlined in the blackness and the ambient glow from the dashboard gave his features a spooky hue. This was the first time that he had seen an alien up close, and the creepy overtones of the surroundings didn't help to make the experience very pleasurable. He felt himself move back in his seat and cringe.

"First time seeing a nonhuman?" the turian asked. Johnny only looked at the creature. The turian chuckled in the vibrating tone they have to their voice. "It's ok kid, happens to everyone. By the way, I'm a Spectre for the Citadel. The name's Nihlus." He held out a three-fingered hand for a handshake. "Oh wait, I've seen the human videos on the extranet." He began contorting his hands until he had made a fist. "There, 'pound it' as they say," he said.

Johnny looked blankly at his fist. He couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for the alien who was obviously trying to break the species ice with him, but he was too horrified and disgusted still to show any sign of frivolous friend-making behavior. The turian retracted his fist and placed it back upon the wheel. Johnny saw the plates on his cheeks droop slightly, maybe in a sign of disappointment or embarrassment.

"Listen, I don't care if you don't like me, but my mission is to recon, and save anyone I can, and that's what I plan on doing," he said sternly.

"Then take me back to my home," he pleaded. "I know my dad's alive. He's old, but he's tough as nails."

"Really," the turian scoffed, "what's his name?"

"Shepard," Johnny stated, "Douglas T. Shepard." Nihlus' eyes darted toward Shepard.

"Wait," Nihlus said confounded, "_the_ Douglas Shepard?" Johnny nodded.

"Your father's a legend, kid. A damned hero," Nihlus talked about Douglas like a child about a favorite super hero. Johnny began to smile.

"That's funny," Johnny said. "The only Douglas I've ever known was the embittered farmer."

"Well let me be the first to tell you that that man has a right to be embittered after the hell the Alliance put him through. Hell, I remember the first time I saw him. I was watching the old human military vids when I was growing up. I saw him when he was just getting a new medal pinned on him at the Citadel. He had that long brown hair and that chiseled look to him. You look an awful lot like him, you know?" Johnny was busy looking out of the car door at the long road they were on. The rolling grasslands before them was given a glow from the moon over head. Appearing in Johnny's view was what appeared to be a white mound on the right side of the road.

"Nihlus," Johnny whispered.

"I see it," Nihlus replied. He pulled the vehicle over and snapped his helmet back on and retrieved his shotgun from the backseat. "Whatever happens," he said through the helmet's comm, "stay in the car." He opened the door and began cautiously moving toward the mound. Johnny watched on in the headlights' illumination. Nihlus poked the mound which now appeared to be a mass of white cloth with the barrel of his shotgun. Finally, he grasped the gun in his right hand and slowly lifted the tarp with his left hand. He then dropped the gun and turned around in frantic haste. He was running back to the car when Johnny watched the mound explode.

Johnny had sprawled across the console of the car. His ears were ringing and his eyes were burning. He felt the door open and hands grab his shirt. the invisible hooks ripped him from his seat and dragged him from the car to the rough ground. He regained sight long enough to see Nihlus being held by two humans while a third pummeled him.

"Let him go!" Johnny shouted. He felt a cloth gag his mouth.

"It's ok," a comforting voice said. "The alien can't hurt you anymore." He then felt himself thrown onto a platform. Evidently it was a truck because he felt it begin to grumble and grind down the bumpy road. A hard object struck his temple and soon he was unconciouss.


	7. Empty

**Thank you so much for the postive reviews. It's things like that that make me want to keep writing. As always: read, review, enjoy! Thanks!**

Johnny awoke in a blank room. No windows or openings except for one vent, a door, and a bed. He sat up in the bed and was shocked with the sharp pain in his head. The door then opened and a man walked in through the frame. He was dressed in a guerrilla warfare type garb. He wore a camouflage down jacket, a torn pair of jeans, and some muddy combat boots and a shirt. He had ammo clips hanging off of his body. Johnny then realized who he was and who had taken them hostage. It was a Mindoir based racially antagonistic group called The Sons of Humanity. They were militant xenophobists who had an unparallelled fear and hatred for aliens. The local law enforcements had tried to track them down before, but they always remained present much like the Ku Klux Klan on Earth. Always resented, but never killed.

"You're in safe hands now, kid," the man said after taking the cigarette out of his mouth for a puff.

"Where did you take the alien?" Johnny asked in a hushed tone. After making quick glance at Johnny, he stubbed the cigarette out on his boot and turned toward Johnny with his hands on his hips.

"Those aliens are what caused all of this hell. We're going to set him straight and when we're done I'm going to set you straight!" The man turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. He slammed the door and locked it. Johnny found himself pacing back and forth in the room. his thoughts were filled with the echoing screams of Nihlus being tortured.

"I just can't let him die," Johnny thought. "Wait, he's just a stupid alien. Like the man said, he's the reason for all of this. No, he saved me, and now I'm going to let him die like an animal?" the voices raged warfare in his head.

"No," Johnny heard himself say. He opened his shut eyes and stuck his hand in his jean pocket and fished out his pocket blade. The killing blade gleamed in the light. "Hey, I'm hungry," Johnny shouted at the door, "stupid alien wouldn't even let me eat."

"Okay kid, I'll bring you something," came the anxiously waited reply. If there was one thing Johnny could count on with the Sons of Humanity was their coddling love and compassion for human needs and desires. Johnny quickly planted his back against the wall beside the door, taking his place before the man entered again. Cold sweat dripped down his arms, his heart rushed, and his skin crawled with anticipation. Finally, the door began to creak open. At the first sign of life, Johnny sprang.

He plowed all of his weight into the figure. Both of them slammed against the opposite wall. The clattering sound of a tray hitting the floor could be heard through the commotion. Johnny placed his hand over the mans mouth in an attempt to block out any unnecessary and possibly compromising sounds. After a few seconds of squirming and muffled screams, his body went limp. Johnny pulled the knife from the man's neck with the sickening sound of suction. Blood oozed from the cut.

Johnny had finally done it. He had killed a man with his own two hands. A light, flighty feeling ran through his body like he was about to levitate out of his own skin. Another blood-curdling scream from Nihlus brought his senses crashing back down.

Johnny left the gurgling corpse in the corner and stumbled into the hall way. It was an eerily vacant corridor lined with lights and painted with a bland tan color. It was obviously an improvised command post established in a dilapidated building. Quickly, he began making his way down the hall towards Nihlus's shrieks. He passed a small wooden desk stacked with papers and books. Johnny presumed this was the station at which the now dead guard had been sitting. Atop a stack of papers was a basic pistol that looked to be of Hahne-Kedar make. Having grown up with a veteran, Johnny knew his way around firearms. He checked the ammo count, locked in a thermal clip that was lying on the desk, and held it at his hip as he made his way down the hall.

He finally arrived at the source of the screams. He readied the pistol at the doorway and opened it with a shove. The tall turian had his hands and ankles shackled to the wall facing the door way. A man and a woman wearing blood stained butcher smocks were busy picking out another torture device from the table in the middle of the room. Silver blades and clamps sat in the blood filled tray as evidence of the heinous tortures being carried out.

"Hands up!" Johnny shouted. The duo stood in silence. They then slowly raised their hands in shock.

"Kid," one said, "this _thing_is what just wiped out half of the population on this planet." Nihlus looked up at Johnny. The spark of doubt that had began to burn from the torturers remark was immediately extinguished upon looking at his scarred visage. Some of the turian's facial plates had been forcibly ripped out. The bleeding wounds revealed the alien's teeth. Johnny gripped the pistol with renewed confidence.

"Let him down now!" Johnny shouted. "I already killed one of you racist bastards and I won't hesitate to kill two more of you scum!" Without another warning, one of the torturers pressed a button on a wall-based console. With a beep, Nihlus was released from the wall. Nihlus grunted something in turian as he lunged toward Johnny. Johnny figured it must have been a profane statement in his native tongue. He snatched the pistol from Johnny's hand before Johnny could react.

"Wait, don't!" Johnny screamed. Before he could react, Nihlus had turned with the pistol and executed the torturers with single shots to the head. suddenly, Johnny's actions came crushing down on him at the sight of the blood spatter on the wall. His vision blurred and his mind became hazy. He felt his legs backing him up and out of the door towards where he hoped was the exit.

"Wait kid!" Nihlus called out. Johnny continued to race down the hall until he burst of a pair of double doors. He landed on a soft patch of grass. He vomited and curled into a ball as nervous chills ran down his spine. He had done it. He had actually done it. He had killed another human being. Not just that, but in an effort to save a non-human. He had betrayed his own race. He felt a three-digit hand on his side.

"Easy kid, easy," came a comforting voice. "You did the right thing." The sentiment was cut short when Johnny raised his head up to see black smoke billowing up from the obscured horizon. He began to run before he had fully gotten up. He ran through grass and up the hill. He reached the top and looked out to see his home town burning. the fires highlighted the bleak morning sky. Johnny dropped to his knees in defeat. He looked on in silence as he watched as his childhood, his home, his memories, burn to the ground.

The thump of footsteps could be heard. Nihlus walked up to Johnny's side. He stood for a minute and then crouched down beside him with a pained grunt.

"Is that your, uh," Nihlus stuttered. Johnny nodded his head in reply to the implied question. Nihlus looked down, desperately trying to think of a way to console a human. He began to raise his arm over Johnny. He hovered over his shoulder, thinking if this would be appropriate. Nihlus finally let his arm rest upon the human teen's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," was all that Nihlus was able to say.

2 hours later

"Nihlus," a static riddled voice said. Nihlus was in the middle of his midday patrol. Rain was lightly dripping from the gray sky. It wasn't good for his now destroyed armor but it felt cool on his wounds. He put a hand to his ear.

"This is Council spectre Nihlus, go ahead," Nihlus replied. The radio channel he was on was the one assigned to him at the beginning of his mission. This time it was a frequency that read out as Alliance on his comm link situated on his shoulder.

"Our scans are showing negative on all foreign or registered hostile frequencies. Can you confirm?" the voice asked.

"Confirmed. This was a batarian slaving blitz. This is probably the most massive one that this sector has seen," Nihlus replied. He scanned the the dark sky searching for the glimmer of a ship. "I did manage to save a youth of the colony."

"Say again, you have a live civilian?" the voice asked. Nihlus made his way to the make-shift shelter he had constructed for the kid. It was roughly the same size as a tent and constructed out of sheet metal and other found pieces.

"Roger. Looks to be about sixteen give or take. I request a transport asap." he awaited the response with anticipation as he stuck his head in the shelter. The kid was asleep on the ground. He was covered with Nihlus's emergency thermal blanket and was using a sack stuffed with hay and grass as a pillow. He breathed softly in his deep sleep.

"Roger, we're sending a shuttle down now. ETA ten minutes."

"Thanks command. This kid's seen enough for one day." Nihlus returned to his patrol as the rain drizzled down. No gunfire, screams, or explosions were heard on this day. Only the sound of rain and chirping birds were heard on the now empty planet.


End file.
